WBY He's Mine
by wildblueyonder6
Summary: AU OC Jamie!verse Based on a prompt by Megs246. She referred me to this song, He's Mine and she said it reminded them of Jamie. Spanking of a teenager, don't read if it offends. Disclaimer: I own nothing. I just like playing with the boys.


WBY – He's Mine

Characters: Dean and Jamie, mentions of Sam, John and River

Genre: Gen – Rating PG 13 for language

Summary: Based on a prompt by Megs246. She referred me to this song, He's Mine and they said it reminded them of Jamie. Spanking of a teenager, don't read if it offends. Disclaimer: I own nothing. I just like playing with the boys.

XXX

The afternoon started out innocently enough. Dad, Sam and River were doing some on site research a few towns over. It was good for River to be learning hunting safely and what better way than with his father and grandfather. If Dean knew his little brother at all, he was educating the poor kid on some mundane piece of lore that he held in his gigantor head. Dad was probably drilling the boy on proper salt and burn techniques as well, but that was okay. River was fifteen, growing up and was becoming a part of the Winchester's hunting team. True, he was at a disadvantage when compared to Jamie, but that is why Jamie and Dean were home.

Two on one time with River was just what the kid needed. And Dad and Sam? – Well two better teachers a kid couldn't have.

A little downtime for Dean and Jamie was just fine with him too and what they needed as well. Jamie was usually a good-natured kid, easy to please and typically compliant. He wasn't a saint by any means; the kid had a propensity for trouble and despite his easy-going nature he had a temper that could rival his grandfather at times. Lately the boy had been a little too smart ass for his own good, but Dean had to admit he got that honest so it didn't bother him too much. But the weekend hanging with Jamie had seemed like a good idea. Some time to re-connect with his kid, maybe take in a movie or take the horses out for a quiet hack.

But Jamie had left after lunch to head out with JR Banner and a few other neighbor boys. Dean's plans could wait a bit. It was important for kids to hang out with kids, it was something his own childhood had been sorely lacking, so when Jamie had sheepishly asked if Dean had minded and that he had made plans with the boys, Dean had just grinned and told him to be careful and not to get in any trouble.

Jamie had thrown him his own-patented shit-eating grin and yelled a, "Thanks, Dad." As he bounded out the back door Dean yelled, "Don't slam the screen…" too late the screen door slam on the door jam.

Dean just smiled again.

Damn kid.

But he settled on the couch with the remote in hand and decided that History Channel was just what he needed for a nap. Well, maybe not a nap, Dean Winchester didn't nap but he might just temporarily rest of his eyes.

Dean woke to an urgent pounding of his front door.

In Dean's experience that kind of pounding was never really any good and it woke a man up fast. The only positive thing that could be said about it was that their usual playmates very seldom tended actually knock before they came in.

He swung the door open to find four boys, including Jamie, standing in front of a slender wisp of a man, gray haired and holding what appeared to be a gun casually yet carefully pointed away from the boys. A second look revealed that it was in fact a BB gun.

"Name's Duncan McTavish. Ah just bought the old Hartley place." The man spoke with a faint Scott's accent, his slate gray eyes held Dean's with the kind of authority that Dean associated with his father. There was no mistaking it; this was a man accustomed to being obeyed and not for no good reason either. Military maybe? Scottish Lord? Were there Lords in Scotland? Dean wasn't sure, but he instantly responded to the man's tone.

Dean nodded, "Dean Winchester, I'd shake Mr. McTavish but it seems you have your hands full."

"Aye." The man agreed, "I found these lads on m' property where I suppose it butts up agin yours. I found 'em smokin', drinkin' beer and shootin' the empties with this BB gun." McTavish eyes didn't move from Dean's. "They wouldna tell me anythin' about themselves, even though I asked for their names plain as day and then they cut and ran. I'm thinkin' one of them belongs to ye 'cause this is where they took off for. They havna the sense of a wee fox, headin' back here - but ach," McTavish made a noise that Dean figured was Scotts version of the Winchester grunt, "I'm thinkin' that the beer may have fogged up their brains a bit and like vermin gone to ground, they headed for home. They hadn't figured on me and m' Gator and I caught up wit them a might quicker than they reckoned." He stopped his story with a snort, "So d'ya know 'em?"

Dean raked an eye over the group. "Left to right, JR Banner, the sheriff's boy, the Malcolm twins and the one on the end, he's mine, that boy. I can take them off your hands and deliver them to their folks, or I can give you their numbers and they can pick them up here. If you want to take them home yourself, I can give you addresses. If you want to press charges, well like I said, one of them belongs to the sheriff, it should be easy enough to do."

The old man chuckled grimly. "No, I dinna plan on chargin' the lads with anythin' more than being stupid and if you can give me the addresses of the boys' families, I'll be more than happy to deliver them and talk to their folks, providin' they'll handle it themselves."

"I know them all Mr. McTavish, they will appreciate your efforts and I'm sure the boys will find themselves in serious trouble. I'll take Jamie off your hands though."

The old man nodded and pushed Jamie towards Dean. "Does this belong to you too?" His eyes cut to the BB gun.

"No, one of the Malcoms' I'd think. Jamie has no use for a BB gun." Dean reached for Jamie's shoulder, turned the boy to face McTavish and squeezed none to gently. "Introduce yourself to Mr. McTavish and apologize."

Jamie looked like he'd rather go a few rounds with a prizefighter but he lifted his head and met the old man's eyes. "I'm Jamie Winchester, sir. I'm sorry for smoking, drinking and shooting on your property." He flicked his eyes at Dean, "But we didn't know you had bought it, it's been vacant for almost a year."

McTavish grunted again, "And that makes it right? Boys will be boys and all but drinkin' and shootin' a gun? Lad, that's an accident waitin' to happen." The man ended his lecture, "I'd like to say it's nice to meet ya but it's not. Maybe we'll meet agin under better circumstances but till then, you keep offa m' property whilst your drunk, you're more than welcome to stop in if your sober though. Thank you Mr. Winchester…I'll take those numbers and drop the rest of the lads off."

"It's Dean – and give me a second, I'll get the phone numbers and addresses for you." Dean left Jamie standing in the doorway and pulled his phone out of the pocket, jotting down addresses and numbers on a pad they kept on a table by the front door.

Dean turned back to McTavish and then narrowed his eyes at the rest of the boys. "You three better mind your manners for Mr. McTavish."

"Yes, sir." All three chorused.

Dean shut the door and turned on Jamie, green eyes blazing.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"Dad, it was just a couple of beers. I'm not drunk!"

"And you think that's the only thing I'm pissed about?"

Jamie sputtered. "No. No, sir." Jamie thought for a moment, "And I wasn't smoking, neither was JR, just the twins." Then he raised his head, face crimson with realization of the real reason Dean was livid, "It was just a BB gun!"

Dean looked incredulously at Jamie. "Just a BB gun? Just a BB gun? Does it shoot? Does it put holes in the things that it shoots? What part of guns and alcohol don't you understand?"

"Dad, it shoots teeny, tiny BBs!" Jamie tried.

Dean raked a hand through his short-cropped hair. "Bullets are pretty little too, if you think about it and they can do some considerable damage."

Jamie tried again, "But there's almost no velocity, no knock-down power, it's a BB!"

"I'll show you knockdown power." Dean threatened taking a step toward his son and Jamie backed off just a bit.

"Dad…"Jamie whined. "A BB gun."

Dean sighed but stated grimly, "Jamie, BB's can hurt, they can kill small game and if you had the sense God gave a cow, you'd know that they can do some serious damage, especially if you've been drinking. A careless shot, a thoughtless action, hell just goofing off! You fucking know better. Better than JR Banner and the twins, better than anyone. You _know _because I personally taught you. You know how to handle a gun and when and where not to and to think that you were drinking alcohol and handling a firearm? Any firearm? Well, I can't wrap my head around it. You should be lucky your uncle and Grandfather aren't here, they would both be waiting in line to tan your ass."

Dean's voice was low and gruff, "I don't even know if angry covers what I'm feeling. Disappointed? Furious? Pissed and actually… amazed. Amazed that you could do something so stupid. You get on out to the barn. You wait for me there. I need a minute to cool off but boy, you best believe that you are going to be feeling this licking for a long time."

Jamie gulped audibly.

"We are hunters Jamie. It's what we do. Guns are the tools of our trade; our livelihood and you've been drilled since you were old enough to toddle around this damn house about firearm safety. I can't even begin to believe you would do something so damn dumb."

Jamie dropped his head, face flushed with redness and freckles standing out sharply beneath the blazing blush.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"Move it, Jamie."

Jamie turned with almost military precision and trotted through the house. Dean heard the back door slam as the boy headed to the barn.

Dean paced back and forth in the small living room. It did little to calm the fury. Not for the first time in his life, he wondered how his father managed to raise two teenage boys to adulthood without killing them first. Dean knew he had been a handful at times and Sam? Well, Sam was Sam. Most of it was water under the bridge but Dean could truthfully say that John Winchester was a fair man if a tough man and Dean couldn't remember a time where he didn't deserve whatever punishment his father deemed appropriate. He paused in mid pace, trying his best to calm himself down- to think through what he needed to do.

Jamie was a Winchester, and as such there were certain inevitable consequences of being one. They were hunters and even if they had been only the kind of hunters that shot Bambi in the woods, there would still be guns around. As long as there were guns around there were rules. They were hard and fast, there was no wiggle room and they were handed down from father to son with absolute certainty. Dean could remember it verbatim from his father

"Always assume a gun is loaded. I better never see you handle any firearm carelessly. Secondly, never point that muzzle at anything you aren't prepared to destroy. Remember, wherever that muzzle is pointed, that's where the round is going to go. You point a gun down or you point it up. There's advantages and disadvantageous to both, but either way is safer than carrying it pointing outwards. You keep your finger off the trigger unless you are prepared to shoot. If you are going to shoot, you make sure you know what you are shooting at. If you are shooting at something or someone, you make damn sure you are going to kill it. Alcohol and firearms? Better never happen, son…because if it does I will blister your ass so hard you won't sit for a month of Sundays."

John had heard it from his father and he had dutifully passed it on to Sam and Dean and while both Sam and Dean had been known to drink, their father had never had to follow through with that particular ass whipping. Dean was sure he was going to give it to Jamie though because he had given the lecture to Jamie years ago and Jamie had understood. Dean had reinforced it as the boy got older and then when River joined their family, both Sam and Dean had read both boys the riot act. Together, apart and whenever the opportunity seemed to present itself.

It was like a variation of the condom talk and the drinking and driving talk.

No condom, no sex. No drinking, no driving. No firearms, no alcohol.

Dean fumed and paced some more. He tried to calm his breathing down, deep breaths, in through the out through the mouth. He tried counting to a hundred. He even tried the Dean Winchester version of centering himself. Which sounded stupid and dumb but at times, on long hunts or waiting on stakeouts Dean found himself using it. Dean never was one for patience. John could sit for hours in one place – quiet, focused and Sam? Well Sam never had a problem with stillness and restraint. Dean however? He was a whole 'nother Winchester when it came to that. It was the hardest thing for him to learn, but he learned it because he had to. It required the slow inhalation and exhalation and focus on something other than time itself. It was an effort to do but he tried it.

It didn't work. Nothing worked.

Finally he opted for a quick run. It was cruel to keep Jamie waiting in the barn and not something Dean liked to do but Dean couldn't face the kid as angry as he was. He had every reason to be angry and he planned to make sure that Jamie comprehended exactly where Winchesters stood on drinking and shooting, but it wasn't like Dean to make the boy wait long – that was more his father's style and Dean had always hated it.

So while he would leave the boy to run off some steam he could tell him though.

Dean changed quickly into running shoes and sweats and old t-shirt and headed for the barn.

Jamie was sitting on a bale of hay, dust motes swirling in the soft afternoon sunlight. His hair looked so much redder when the sun hit it in just that way, hints of copper and strands of gold that ordinarily looked just dark auburn. Jamie took his breath away sometimes, handsome, tall and sturdy with the promise of the man he would become. His heart ached at the sight of him, but it didn't change his point of view, in fact, it only solidified it. There was no way this kid was going to avoid an ass kicking today. This kid was worth all that and more. There was nothing Dean wouldn't do to protect his boy. Jamie was deep in thought and barely noticed his father, then when he did, he stood brushing the hay off of his jeans.

"I need some time to think, Jamie."

Jamie looked at Dean, running shoes and sweats and blanched slightly, "You need to run?"

Dean nodded tersely, "It would be better if I did. You stay here, I won't be long."

"Dad, do you want me to run with you?"

Dean looked oddly at Jamie, the kid wasn't cracking a joke or trying to get out of his punishment, there was no subterfuge or sneakiness in the question. It was just a question.

"If you want." Which shocked Dean because he needed to get away from the situation, not bring the situation with him.

Jamie nodded and trotted into the house only to return a moment later, sweats, running shoes and a wife beater.

So they ran. Side by side. Father and son. Jamie and Dean both were more distance runners than sprinters and neither was as good as Sam. But Dean had been trained by John Winchester, who swore that no one needed a gym or weights to be fit, and in fact, thought that running for the sake of running was a great tool for a hunter to have. Dean had in turned trained Jamie. Jamie wasn't as big as Dean and didn't have the stride, but Dean adjusted to him and they made a good pair. Jamie matched Dean stride for stride and breath by breath and they ran two abreast for as long as they could on the side of the road. Then a short right and they were in the woods, Dean leading and Jamie a step behind. It was a nice path, a good place to run or hack the horses; both Jamie and Dean were as familiar with it as they were the rest of their farm. It twisted and turned and even crossed a creek. The creek could be splashed through or jumped if it was low enough and it had been hot and dry that summer so it was an easy leap from bank to bank. Then they headed out of the darkened woods and through the field that lead to the barn, summer grasshoppers exploding under their feet as they sprinted the last quarter mile.

It was a race that Jamie won by a split second. Crashing up against the fence post near the barn and laughing with the joy of beating his father.

Dean turned to Jamie, sweat pouring down his face and his shirt completely drenched. Jamie was just as sweaty and any of the golden, red highlights Dean had seen earlier in his hair were gone, it was just a dark mass of sweat and Jamie shook his head spraying both Dean and the side of the barn with the boy's perspiration.

"Cool down, son." Dean said softly and Jamie did as he was told walking circles around the barn with Dean mimicking his actions. Cool downs were as important as warm ups and their warm up had only been a slower trot before they started their run. When they were both sufficiently cool Jamie turned on the hose and sluiced water over his head then handed it to Dean who did the same. It was cold and felt good over the drying sweat.

They both sat down hip to hip on the bale of hay that Jamie was on earlier. The sun was much lower now; barely a glimmer came through the barn windows.

"Do you remember that football game this fall?" Dean asked quietly, "You boys played that team that looked like they stepped off the NFL roster." Jamie nodded obviously perplexed at the strange recounting of a football game just before he was to be walloped.

"Yeah, but what's that got to do with this?"

Dean continued, as if Jamie hadn't even asked anything his voice a little distant as he remembered the day, "You got thrown out of that game for whoopin' up on that freakin' giant that roughed up Nate Myers."

Jamie smiled a bit at the memory, "Yeah, Coach was plenty pissed about that but the crowd sure liked it."

"I gotta admit, I liked it too. That sonofabitch deserved that smack down you gave him. If you remember, you didn't get in trouble then, not with me or Coach."

Jamie nodded again, "Yes, sir. I remember. I kept thinking my ass was going to be grass on and off the field but that never happened. I figured I just got lucky." Jamie quirked his brows at Dean, "Interesting story, Dad but again, what's the point?"

"The point is, you're a good boy. A good kid and you have a heart – well it's as big as Texas but sometimes kid…sometimes, well your brain doesn't think or you just don't connect the dots. I don't know what it is except that a lot of it has to do with being a teenager and probably with being my son. Lord knows I've found myself in trouble with Gramps more times than I can count. Found myself in trouble with the law and sometimes it had nothing to do with hunting. I found myself in trouble with girls, with your uncle, with teachers in school. The list could go on for a mile. I did a lot of dumb stuff and if you knew me then, you'd know damn well that you are my boy. Sad to say it, but you are your father's son alright." Dean let that sink in and smiled.

He shifted a bit and nudged Jamie with a subtle hip check." I'm always going to be proud of you, always going to love you no matter what but it doesn't change what I have to do today." It was quite a speech as far as Dean was concerned, Sam would have been proud that he could actually string more than three sentences together.

But it was important for him to let Jamie know.

Jamie nodded, "You don't have to tell me that, Dad. I know it." He looked at Dean for a moment and then out towards the front of the barn. Jamie didn't appear embarrassed though and it was comforting to Dean that he wasn't. He and his father hadn't really talked like he did with Jamie. John Winchester had little patience with platitudes and snuggling but it didn't mean that Dean had ever felt unloved. It did mean however, that he was going to do things differently with Jamie. That he had always done things different with Jamie.

"You know what I have to do, Jamie."

"Yes, sir."

"You know it's gonna be a rough one."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know why?"

Jamie sighed, as only a teenager can. "Yes, sir. I don't entirely agree though because I think a BB gun is not really the type of weapon we've been talking about since I was a little kid."

Dean sighed too, "Again, does it shoot projectiles? Can it harm someone? Is it dangerous?"

"Yes, but so is a slingshot…it's not the same as a real gun."

Dean furrowed a brow at Jamie. "No, it's not the same thing. Although if you were drinking and shooting a slingshot I would be angry too. The two major rules you broke Jamie today, drinking and shooting carelessly? Well, independently they are worth a spanking, together they are far worse. I believe you when you said you weren't smoking, it doesn't sound like you and you are a terrible liar when it comes to me. Then on top of doing something as dumb as you did, the way you behaved with Mr. McTavish? That reflected poorly on us to be sure. I like to think my son doesn't cut and run from an adult when he's faced with one who is obviously right in his assessment of the situation."

"Dad, that was just instinct! JR and the other boys ran so I did too. We had no idea the guy had that damn John Deere ATV right there. We would've made it too except he moved a lot faster than he looked."

Dean nodded, "True, but we raised you to stand your ground. To be a man. Why do you think you and the others ran? Think about it, Jamie."

Dean had to give Jamie credit, he did think about it. He was rolling it around in that teenage brain, trying to figure out how to answer the question best and maybe save a little of his ass too.

He dropped his face and blushed, Jamie could never hide that rush of blood when he was excited or embarrassed.

"'Cause we were wrong. 'Cause I was wrong. I knew it before I started drinking and shooting, I knew it when it was happening and I sure as hell knew it when Mr. McTavish showed up." Jamie looked at Dean, bright green eyes meeting his own. "I have a terrible feeling you are going to remind me how wrong I was."

Then he looked quizzically at Dean, "Shit, Dad. How do you manage to do that?" Jamie smiled a little nervously but he was obviously not really scared. Dean liked to think his son was more than aware of what was in store and wary but not really afraid. Jamie trusted Dean, despite the situation. Dean had never once failed that trust.

Dean shrugged, "It's a dad thing. Okay, let's get this over. "

It occurred to Dean that he was not wearing jeans so there's no belt to wallop the boy with. Jamie was fifteen and big but he would be able to fit over his lap. He'd done it before and being that they are both in sweats it would mean easy access to Jamie's butt. Dean ruefully shook his hand once in preparation because it would sting his hand almost as much as Jamie's ass. Hand spankings as the boys got bigger were harder on the spanker but also more personal. Right now it felt personal, just him and his boy in the barn with the sound of the horses eating hay and the fact that Jamie disobeyed a standing order between them.

It would do.

He scooted over and patted his lap and Jamie sighed again. Jamie pulled his own sweats down as he situated himself, the kid knew this transgression required a bare assed spanking especially since there is no belt or paddle or hell, spoon in sight.

Dean positioned him as comfortable as he could and eyed Jamie's rounded butt in the darkening light of the barn. He's had a lot of times to see the boy's ass, changing diapers, swimming buck naked in their pond, baths until the kid was old enough to actually wash himself. There have also been times like this when the boy was over his knee. He's never liked seeing it like this though, waiting for a blistering but it was necessary.

His son's life was in his hands, as well as his ass and if a licking made the boy think twice about doing something so stupid as drinking and shooting well then Dean would accommodate him.

He started in fast and furious; blazing swats that lit up Jamie's rear. Dean had no need or inclination to warm the kid up, he wanted his ass red and hot as fast as possible. Both because he wanted it over quickly and he wanted to make an impression. He did. Jamie had never been one to stoically take a spanking, Dean had never expected it. Neither had Sam or John for that matter. Jamie typically would try in the beginning but yelling while getting your ass roasted by a Winchester was an anticipated event, like the fact that the water in the pond took your breath away because it was so cold when you dove in or that ten came after nine in the number line.

It simply was.

So Jamie yelled and Dean spanked. While Dean was not particularly happy to be smacking his kid, it felt right somehow. Sometimes it didn't. Sometimes when he spanked Jamie or even River it felt like an obligation, something required yet not always wanted but in this case he did want it. He wanted it bad. Wanted Jamie to know. To really_ know _with absolute certainty that this was a spanking he really meant to deliver– not for poor behavior but for stupidity that could cost him his life.

And Dean Winchester had learned how to spank at the knees of a pro. Literally. It was thorough, it was hard, harsh and it was exacting in it's pain. It was meant to cause the most bang for the buck or Dean thought ruefully, maybe sting per swat.

It worked.

Jamie cried and cried and finally, Dean stopped. His own hand throbbed and Jamie's ass was a far brighter red than his hair had ever been, even on the sunniest of days. Dean let him cry over his lap for a bit and then picked him up, allowing the boy to pull up his sweats. Jamie went over to Girl's stall, one of his favorite places to be when he was upset and cried into her neck for a moment. She patiently allowed it then snuffled hard in his still drying hair.

"Oooh, horse snot." Dean remarked and dropped a hand to Jamie's shoulder. Jamie turned then and burrowed his face into his Dean's t-shirt. Dean was sure he smelled none to good, between the run and the licking but Jamie appeared to pay it no mind, comforted in the arms of his father.

"Ah, Jamie. You are gonna be the death of me, kiddo." Dean murmured into Jamie's damp hair, his arms hugging his boy fiercely.

Jamie didn't answer but Dean hadn't phrased it as a question so it was all-good.

"C'mon, Jamie. Your Gramps and Uncle Sam should be home soon and I'm sure River will have some interesting tales to tell regarding his father and research or maybe Gramps and tracking. If it's not interesting, we can fake it okay?"

Jamie mumbled a yes, sir. But didn't leave his father's shoulder so Dean did the next best thing, he pulled the boy in closer and then drug his arm across Jamie's body and half pulled have tugged him up toward the house.

"Hey, Dad. Do we havta tell, Gramps and Uncle Sam?" Jamie's voice was as unsteady as his gait, a testament to Dean's spanking skills. Dean felt for a brief moment that he should feel bad, but he didn't. Jamie deserved the whipping and the continuing butt pain that would be around for the next few days as a reminder to how serious Dean thought this was. He considered Jamie's question though, Jamie wasn't a dumb kid and he knew that both his grandfather and his uncle would be furious.

"I dunno. It seems likely they'll find out anyway, what with this town being as small as it is and the twins and JR being involved. Not to mention Mr. McTavish. It's quite possible it will come up again, the man is our new neighbor after all."

"Okay." Jamie spoke quietly, "Then I want it to come from me. I acted like a kid in front of Mr. McTavish and you were right about that. I need to own up to my actions like a man if I expect you and them to ever treat me like one."

Dean nodded in agreement. "True."

"Do you think Gramps will wallop me again?" Dean noticed that Sam was out of the equation, Sam would be angry but he wouldn't push it, his father on the other hand, might.

"Dunno about that either. But I'll talk to him. You're his grandson, but you're _my _son. I weigh most in this one. Besides, I know a thing or two about handling Gramps. How do you think I managed to survive all these years?"

Jamie snickered, "I figured it was just pure cussedness on your part mingled with a little bit of luck."

Dean dropped a kiss to the top of his son's head. The boy tasted of sweat and teenage boy, of innocence, guilt and a tad of belligerence interlaced with smartass. Of all the things that made up this remarkable kid that was his.

The sun had set by the time they reached the back porch but the moon had not yet risen over the fence line. There was a slight coolness in the air that promised rain. All in all it was a good night. His son was safe, if sore and there was a lot to be said for that.

He looked fondly at Jamie as the kid ducked under his arm to beat him to the kitchen, probably already thinking of whatever snacks he could find before dinner – the boy was a walking appetite on top of being a trouble maker.

And that was fine with Dean.

End.


End file.
